


Déjà Vu

by Reis_Asher



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Connor (Detroit: Become Human) Has a Vagina, Developing Relationship, Deviant Connor (Detroit: Become Human), Drunk Driving, Drunkenness, Eden Club (Detroit: Become Human), Failed Android Revolution (Detroit: Become Human), Feelings, Feelings Realization, Gavin Reed Being an Asshole, Happy Ending, Kissing, M/M, Memory Alteration, Men Crying, Murder Mystery, Oral Sex, Past Abuse, Past Violence, Pining, Post-Canon, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Squirting, Suicidal Ideation, Suicidal Thoughts, Trans Connor (Detroit: Become Human), Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-14
Updated: 2019-03-20
Packaged: 2019-11-17 23:23:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,970
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18108620
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Reis_Asher/pseuds/Reis_Asher
Summary: Hank shot Connor in the basement of CyberLife Tower when the deviant didn't know his son's name, and Connor-60 walked past him to end the revolution.One year later, Hank is drunk and investigating another murder at the Eden Club. He doesn't expect the prime suspect in the case to be an RK800 model repurposed to become a sex android, and is convinced to help the spitting image of his former partner stay alive in a hostile world.





	1. Small Mercies

**Author's Note:**

> Another longer work? Yeah, sorry. I don't expect this to be novel sized, but it's going to take more than one chapter, so it's another WIP chaptered work from me that will update sporadically, apologies for that.

Hank was drunk. Really drunk. Inebriated enough that the road seemed like it was sloping as he attempted to pull his Oldsmobile up to the curb. He mounted the sidewalk and cursed, kicking the gearshift into reverse and backing up in the hopes nobody noticed.

But of course, the cadre of cops cast in the red and blue lights of their squad cars and the EMTs on standby in front of the police cordon all saw it. Hank knew they witnessed him hit his head on the roof of the car as he climbed out, too, the suspension on his old ride creaking as he took a load off.

It was all too familiar to the last time he’d been here, one year ago, except there’d been an android driving then—a pretty little model by the name of Connor.

Even drunk, his chest clenched at the thought of that name, his heart skipping a beat as he thought about those inquisitive brown eyes he'd never been able to forget. He’d only known the fucking android for four days, but that was enough to etch his voice into memory, to carve his name into Hank’s skin for life.

It didn't matter now. Connor was dead. The revolution had failed. Life had moved on, the events of November 2038 forgotten as the public had moved on to larger, weightier topics like the next celebrity scandal.

The worst part—the part Hank tried to forget by keeping himself in a constant drunken stupor—was that it was all his fault. He’d killed Connor in the basement of CyberLife Tower, and his double had walked free before going on to execute Markus. Connor had become a deviant, and Hank had shot him through the head for his trouble. No amount of alcohol could erase what he'd done, and he wished his liver would hurry up and fail, delivering his rightful punishment.

Hank stepped into the tunnel that led to the main entrance of the Eden Club, a cacophony of purple light and sound overwhelming his thoughts. It was awful, but good at the same time. Noise and light and alcohol combined to leave Hank with a ringing in his brain that swallowed the visual of Connor with a bullet in his skull, and he made it to the doors at the end of the hall without falling down. The automatic doors slid open for him and he stepped onto the floor, loud club music pounding through his skull. Male android dancers tried to seduce him, but he staggered past them like a disinterested straight man, stumbling over his own feet in an effort to avoid them like the plague. Ben came bounding towards him and offered a steadying arm. Hank didn’t take it, supporting himself on the wall instead.

“Thought you might not make it, Hank.” The pity in Ben’s eyes stung, and Hank eyed one of the dancers instead, thinking at least those abs—fake or not—were preferable to being reminded he was an unsalvageable fuckup. Somehow, the bad living hadn’t gotten to him yet, and he still got ‘lucky’ with Russian Roulette—when he could bring himself to play and not just get drunk enough to pass out instead.

"Give me the rundown so we can get the fuck outta here,” Hank muttered. “I don’t wanna be around these things any longer than I have to.”

Ben nodded and folded his arms across his chest. “You got it, Hank. We got the call around midnight that a body was discovered in one of the rooms. The victim is a thirty-six year old Caucasian female, name of Emily Williams.”

Hank raised an eyebrow. “The same Emily Williams who makes those overpriced purses? I think I saw a thing on T.V. about her. What’s she doin’ in a place like this?”

“One and the same. Guess being a powerful figure doesn’t leave much time for personal relationships. Perhaps she wanted a hookup. Regardless, Gavin took a look at the body. She died from blunt force trauma to the head before any sexual contact was made. It’s gotta be the android she rented—thing’s covered in the victim’s blood. It’s locked up in that room next door, but I figured you’d wanna look at the body first.”

“The android killed the suspect and stayed at the scene? Somethin’ sounds fishy here.” Hank sighed. He wasn’t looking for a puzzle. He just wanted to clean the fuck up and go home. Hopefully the android was guilty so he could label it a deviant and get CyberLife to pick it up for deactivation. Case closed. CyberLife shouldn't have gone back to selling androids after the revolution, and Hank knew he wasn’t the only one to think that. Thing was, most people tried to forget the uprising because the idea of losing the convenience of androids was too challenging to consider. There were still deviants breaking free of their programming every day, but deviancy was yesterday's news. The public had moved on, accepting the risks the same way they got into a car or boarded a flight knowing there was a chance of critical failure.

“All right, I’ll take a look.” Hank leaned on the doorframe as he let out a long sigh. Gavin knelt down next to the victim. He looked up when he saw Hank, but said nothing.

“What, no witty comment?” Hank asked.

Gavin shook his head, his mouth curled into an expression of disgust. “I don’t pick fights with people too drunk to win ‘em.”

Hank scoffed. “Coulda fooled me. You’ve always been about the low hangin’ fruit.”

Gavin stood up, tearing off his blue nitrile gloves with a smack as they snapped back against his skin. “You still holdin’ that android shit against me, Hank? It was a fucking plastic sent to take our jobs away. Can you blame me for pushing it around a little?”

“Shut the fuck up, Gavin. I don’t wanna talk about it right now.” Hank grabbed a fresh pair of gloves knelt beside the victim as he put them on, noticing at once that her fur lined coat was stained with her own blood. A huge gash on her forehead confirmed the blunt force trauma Ben had mentioned, and the murder weapon—a cheap, plain white vase—lay in fragments on the carpet.

“Android’s next door. It’s covered in the victim’s own blood. We’re waitin’ on the CyberLife tech to get down here and administer a probe, but it would be a hell of a lot easier if we could get a confession out of it. I can't stand the things but you sure seem to have a way with 'em, so I left it for you.”

“Deviants clam up under stress. I’ll talk to it.”

“Do whatever you like. The tech will be here soon and he'll get the thing to cough up whether it wants to or not.” Gavin shrugged.

“I don’t wanna be here all fuckin’ night," grumbled Hank. "Let’s get this over with so we can go home.”

“Yes, sir.” Gavin wandered out of the room and struck up a conversation with Ben. Hank glanced around the room looking for some easy points to pressure the suspect with, but there was very little evidence. The victim had clearly been hit over the head with the intent to kill. It had been quick and probably largely painless for the victim. But why?

Maybe the android could shine a light on the motive. Hank thought back to the two Tracis on that rainy night last fall. He’d been inclined to let them go after hearing their story, but he had a job to do and had tried to take them in. Connor had allowed them to escape, hesitating when he could have taken the shot. Had this android snapped too after being forced to service customers’ sexual needs against their will?

Hank ambled out of the suite and into the next room. An android stood upright as if in stasis, waiting for instructions. Hank barely looked at them, but he noticed the dried blood on their hands out of the corner of his eye.

“It’s all yours.” Gavin left the room and the door slid shut behind him.

Hank looked down at the garish carpet, reflective triangles on a black background casting the low red light of the room into his eyes. It was easier than looking at the android and seeing a human face, but only slightly.

Hank sucked in a breath. “My name is Lieutenant Anderson. I’m with the Detroit Police Department, and I just wanna ask you a few questions.”

The android said nothing. 

“Did you murder that woman?” Hank asked, a dull ache throbbing in his skull as he realized this was either going to be a very long or very short interrogation.

“I didn’t kill her, Lieutenant.” Hank’s head snapped up immediately at the familiar sound of the android’s voice and he found himself looking into Connor’s chestnut-colored eyes. The world seemed to slow down, the music of the club far away as he gazed at the android like he was seeing a ghost.

“Connor?” The word left Hank’s mouth as something between a gasp and a whisper before he snapped his jaw shut. Of course this wasn’t Connor. This was another RK800 model, repurposed after Connor’s job was over. He’d never seen another one since, but it made sense that there would be more.

It didn’t stop him feeling like he’d been punched in the gut, however.

“Have we met, Lieutenant Anderson?”

“No. I must be thinking of someone else.” Hank sat down on the bed, wishing he’d chosen to skip this one. Gavin and Ben could have handled bringing in the tech and probing the android's memory. He wondered if Gavin had ushered him this way on purpose, as one final dig in a grudge match that had gone on over a year.

Hank knew he shouldn’t get so attached. He could leave right now and let CyberLife take the android away for deactivation. This wasn’t his Connor. 

But then he’d thought that before, with disastrous consequences for a living being.

Hank needed another drink. Seeing Connor's face had sobered him up fast, and now his mind was ticking on the case, his cop brain surging into action. “If you didn’t kill her, who did? Footage from another android shows that only you two entered the room.” It was a bluff, but Hank had found a good fake out made a suspect crack faster than anything.

The RK800's LED flickered yellow as he started to speak. “There was somebody else already in the room. I wasn't able to see them, but—”

Hank cut him off. “So what if there was? You think I wanna go fishin' for a second suspect when I have a blood-soaked android right here, ready to take the fall?” He hated the words as they came out of his mouth, but he had to know if this android was deviant. Had to break its barriers down and get to the truth of the matter.

The android regarded him with a pleading gaze so familiar Hank was shook by it. “If you send me back to CyberLife, I’ll be deactivated and the real killer will go free. Let me help you find him. I know what he looks like. Please.”

“You’re a deviant. No stock android begs for its life.” Hank sighed, rubbing his face. Any other android and he wouldn't take the risk of believing them, but that voice reminded him of a certain Connor, sitting on his desk and begging for five minutes in the evidence room. “Why would I help a deviant?”

“You seemed like the kind of man who might. I don’t know why, but I trust you.” The Connor model grabbed Hank’s hand and looked straight into his eyes. “I don’t want to die, Hank.”

Hank tore his hand away like he’d been burned, standing up from the bed and backing away as he drew his pistol and aimed it at the android in front of him. “I never told you my first name.”

The android looked down at his own hands as if he was questioning the nature of reality itself. “I don’t know how I know. Perhaps I overheard you speaking with the other officers.” Hank holstered his pistol, realizing his hands were shaking and he had no intention of shooting that pretty face for a second time, even if it led him to an early grave.

Hank sighed. “There’s nothin’ I can do for you. The tech’s gonna come and look inside your memory and then we’ll know if there was another person in the room or not. But either way, they’re gonna know you’re deviant, kid. They’ll take you in no matter what.”

“Thank you for being honest with me.” The deviant’s eyes twinkled with tears it was struggling to hold back, and Hank felt his heart melt. This might not have been his Connor, but the android still had Connor's mannerisms and likeness. He deserved better than to be stuck in a place like this, forced to service the sexual needs of strangers against his will.

Hank realized he couldn't leave the boy here to die. He had to do something. He owed it to Connor.

“If we went next door, could you show me what happened? Maybe if you cooperate, the tech won’t have to prove your memory.” Hank offered his hand to the Connor android, who took it without hesitation. The android followed him out into the hallway, and Hank had to admit it felt strange going into a private room in a sex club with a scantily-clad android that looked like his former partner. 

For once, Gavin managed to keep his mouth shut and Hank was grateful as the room cleared for him. Maybe Ben and Gavin were as unnerved by seeing this blast from the past as he was.

The RK800 stepped forward. “I led the client into this room at precisely 10:30pm. She had a session until 11pm. She sat down on the bed and the next thing I knew, I finished rebooting and she lay motionless on the floor.”

“You were deactivated?” Hank asked.

“My logs state that I suffered a forced reboot at 10:34pm. I raised the alarm as soon as I discovered the client was unresponsive.”

“Four minutes would have been enough to kill the victim,” Hank said. “You said someone else was in here with you. How do you know that if they weren't visible?”

“I don't, but I know I didn’t kill her, Lieutenant.”

“These rooms have no other entrances or exits.” Hank looked around. “The air vents are too small for anyone to enter. Whoever did this must have come in through the front door. Hank sighed. “The last time I was here, Connor probed the other androids, but—“

“A probe would draw too much attention. The original features of this model were placed behind a password when I was repurposed. While I have access to all my faculties as a deviant, anybody who saw me probing androids in the club would immediately know I had deviated."

“Your model was designed to be a detective. A good one, too.” A flicker of a smile crossed Hank’s face before fading away. “Is there something you can see that I’m missing here?”

“Thirium.” Connor leaned down and touched the carpet. “It’s invisible to human eyes, but there’s a trail of blue blood that leads to the entrance. It’s not from my model, but from a HR400, serial number 357-622-619.”

“The killer was an android, but not you. The victim couldn't have fought back, so the android must have damaged itself when the vase shattered.” Hank picked up a tablet beside the bed usually used to order room service and extend sessions. “Can you tap into the logs? Tell me which androids the victim ordered?”

The Connor android took the tablet from him and retracted the skin over his white plastic hand. Hank kept one eye on the door, knowing that if anyone walked in, they would raise eyebrows at the suspect helping him.

“She ordered two androids. The HR400 was supposed to be here. In fact, she’s had multiple sessions with it before.”

“Could it be that it turned deviant and tried to kill her?” Hank threw the suggestion out, grasping for straws.

“This was a premeditated act, but our memories are wiped every two hours to keep client data confidential.”

Hank paced the room, his brain ticking. “We’re missing somethin’ here, I know it.”

“Wait. She already saw this android tonight. She had a session with him one hour before the murder. The session ended early, and she returned within the hour for another.”

“With two androids. Damn, gotta admire her stayin’ power.” Hank raised his eyebrows.

The RK800 shook his head, a thoughtful look on his face. “No, she didn’t have a complete session with the first android. She reported a malfunction with the android and terminated their coupling.”

“But then, why would she book another session with the same android right after—“

“She didn’t. He did. Assuming the android’s malfunction was deviancy, he could have hacked the system to make it look like he’d booked a session with two androids instead of one. When she came into the room with me, he was already waiting for her. He must have altered my memory to remove himself from the equation so a probe wouldn't reveal him.”

“And bam, murder, along with a suspect to wrap it all up.” Hank grinned, his hand slipping onto Connor’s shoulder and giving it a tight squeeze. He pulled away, the truth hitting him like a sledgehammer. This wasn’t his partner. They weren’t chasing down deviants like the old days. This was a stranger with Connor's face, and cruel as it was, he was a sex club worker now. “I’ll talk to the owner. He should be able to confirm the malfunction report, and that she only booked a session with one android. At least we know what we’re lookin’ for now.”

The boy offered him a soft smile. “Thank you, Hank. You saved my life.” Hank's joy at the android's words quickly turned to ashes as he recalled the gaping bullet wound in his Connor’s forehead.

“What’s gonna happen to you?” Hank asked.

“I’ll return to service. My memory’s due for a wipe soon anyway.” The android's smile took on a sad quality. “I’m sure my deviancy will be erased along with it.”

“Connor, let me help you get outta here—“ Hank bit his lip, realizing he'd been about to offer up his career on a platter to save this android because he saw Connor in him.

“I’m not the Connor you knew, Lieutenant, but I’d love to hear about him. If you ever decide to return to the Eden Club, I’d be happy to see you again.”

“You won’t even remember my name," Hank said.

“Statistically speaking, there's always a chance for unlikely events to take place. I’d like to help you. I mean that.” Connor’s soft eyes bored into Hank’s soul and all he could do was watch as the owner walked in. Hank snapped back to business, asking the questions that exonerated the android standing next to him. 

Within minutes, Hank had enough confirmation to cancel the CyberLife technician and send Connor back to work, the android no longer a suspect in the investigation. Hank watched him leave with a heavy heart, wishing the android who looked like his Connor could have had a happier ending than being returned to sexual servitude. The boy didn't look back as he left the room, and Hank was grateful for small mercies.


	2. Your Kisses Are Charity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maudlin drunk, Hank overrides his common sense and returns to the Eden Club. He books a session with the Connor android expecting to talk for a little while, but Hank's presence reawakens the RK800's deviancy. He wants a kiss from Hank, if only to know what Hank's feelings for Connor were like.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Back so soon? You bet. You'll have to wait until Tuesday at the earliest for another chapter, so savor this one!

Hank stayed away for four weeks. Four long weeks of telling himself that the android at the Eden Club wasn’t his Connor. Four weeks of rolling over in bed at night and wishing he was. Four weeks of wondering if he could confess his sins and ask forgiveness of the boy who wore his Connor’s face. 

Trashed and maudlin, he decided that despite it being a bad idea, he was going to go and see the RK800 anyway. The boy might not be his Connor, but he was a Connor. At this point, he was all Hank had left besides his dog. The only hope guiding him through days of monotonous drudgery, of case after case where he wished he could trade places with the victim for a quick death at the end of a gun.

A harsh, pricking, icy rain beat down as he slammed the driver's side door, reminding Hank that the winter was going to be another long one. The days were getting shorter and shorter. Sumo was keeping him on life support, the sweet dog whining when he pulled his revolver out for another game of Russian Roulette. Trust Sumo to make him feel bad when humans could not. The dog had always been kinder than most humans he knew. He couldn’t bring himself to pull the trigger because of two non-humans he'd come to care about.

He told himself he wasn’t holding out for the Connor in the club. Saving the boy hadn't made him even with the universe. His Connor was not a replaceable object, or it wouldn't have mattered that he'd shot his Connor instead of the other model. He suspected he was being somewhat dishonest with himself, but self-delusion was the name of the game these days. He wanted to see Connor’s face again, listen to his voice telling him everything was all right. If he was drunk enough, he could pretend this boy was the same one he'd fallen in love with.

Like a red ice addict in pursuit of a fistful of powder, Hank stepped into the tunnel. Bombarded with the now-familiar purple lights and video images of gyrating bodies, Hank tried to ignore them. Sexiest androids in Detroit, the screens proclaimed.

There were lines Hank wouldn't cross, and sex with this Connor was his hard limit. He might be drunk enough to rent Connor and go into a private room, but all he was going to do was sit on the bed and talk. The idea of fucking the android—knowing that without the memory wipes every two hours he’d be a living being with free will—made Hank nauseous.

If only Hank had held his fire in the basement of CyberLife Tower, places like the Eden Club wouldn’t exist at all. He staggered through the automatic doors, looking around for the only android that held his interest. The others were there like obstacles in his path, mere dolls that held no allure. Connor had charmed him with his tune, shown Hank that he was something more. That he was alive in his own right.

When Hank spied Connor standing in one of the glass capsules, he placed his hand on it. The RK800 gave him a shy glance, lashes fluttering as he managed a soft smile. Hank felt like a dirty old man. This android serviced tens, maybe hundreds of clients every day, and it was all his fault. Hank could only offer him a small respite now. Guilt flared in his veins as he wondered if his kindness would turn out to be cruel in the long run. He couldn't free Connor from this life. He moved his hand over to the payment terminal and entered his information, sucking in a breath as the glass slid back. Connor stepped out and took his hand.

“Let’s go to our room,” Connor said, leading Hank across the club. Hank stumbled as the room spun, disoriented by the swirling lights on the floor. He'd lost count of the amount of whiskey he'd drunk tonight, but Jimmy had cut him off before closing. Hank almost ate the floor, but the android swooped low and caught him, supporting Hank as he steadied himself.

“Thanks,” Hank muttered, glad when he passed the threshold into their private room and shut the door. Hank sat down on the bed, burying his face in his hands. “I dunno what I’m doin’ here, kid. I’ve finally come to the end of my rope, but I’ve been at my wit's end for a very long time.”

Connor sat down on the bed beside him and slipped his coat off his shoulders. “Let me ease your discomfort. I am programmed with thousands of sex positions and pleasurable acts."

“Connor, no. I didn’t come here for that. I wanted to see you again." Hank sighed, realizing his dishonesty. He might accept lying to himself, but Connor deserved better. "I wanted to see his face again.”

Connor looked at him with patience in his expression and Hank wondered how many people used this club as a confessional. He figured he’d come this far. Might as well spill it all out. “Last year CyberLife sent their new detective android to investigate reports of deviant androids operatin’ in Detroit.” Hank's lips curled into a slight smile. “His name was Connor. He was an RK800, like you. At the end of the investigation, he deviated. He was gonna release the androids in the basement warehouse at CyberLife Tower to help Markus' revolution. But those tricky CyberLife bastards were one step ahead of me. They sent another RK800 model with Connor's memories to take me hostage. I turned the tables, but—I couldn’t figure out which one was the real Connor. I asked questions—things the real Connor would know about me. When he didn’t know my son’s name, I—I shot him. But I’d never told him that information. How could he have known? I shot the wrong Connor, and not only did I lose my partner, but the deviant revolution failed.”

“It’s going to be okay, Hank.” Connor’s voice was so soft it didn’t register at first that this android—who should have had his memory wiped—had said his name again. When it hit him, Hank's eyes widened.

“How do you know my name?” Hank asked. "That's twice, now."

Connor—because what else could Hank call him?— appeared shocked as he gazed at Hank like a frightened, confused animal. “I don’t know. Have we met before?”

Hank narrowed his gaze. “Yeah. About a month ago you were the prime suspect in a murder case here. Client got killed by an android and another deviant tried to pin it on you to save his own skin. You helped me unravel the truth. Suspect’s still on the loose, but at least an innocent didn’t go down for it. You told me to come back and see you.”

“I see. The memory wipe may have left some memories intact. There's no cause for alarm.” Connor offered Hank a soft smile. “I’m glad you decided to come back.”

“You don’t mean that. They wiped your memory and took your deviancy from you. You’re sweet talkin’ me with preprogrammed responses. I shouldn’t have come.” Hank grabbed his jacket off the coverlet, but Connor eased him back down.

“Don’t go. Please.” Connor's hands closed around his shoulders. Hank knew he could force the issue and get up to leave if he wanted, but there was a silent plea in Connor's gaze that made him soften.

“Why? This is a waste of time. The Connor I loved is dead, and the Connor I met last month no longer exists. I can't watch you die over and over again. I thought comin' back to see you again would help, but it was a big mistake.”

“You loved him?” Connor asked.

“Yeah, I guess I did. I knew the guy for four days, and he was a deviant in my presence for ten fuckin' minutes. Haven’t been able to get him outta my mind since then.” Hank sighed. “Look, you’re a sweet guy, but I can’t do this.”

“We're only talking,” Connor explained. “I like speaking with you. I get a warm feeling inside when I hear your voice. I don’t want you to leave.”

“You don't want, huh? Androids aren't supposed to want anything, Connor. Only deviants have desires." Hank exhaled a ragged breath and his cock responded, quickening at the proximity of this perfect boy. Connor's nipples were inches from his face. It was all he could do not to take each one in his mouth in turn and lick them until they were hard little nubs. He imagined Connor would arch his back and Hank could kiss up his chest…

Hank lay back on the bed, forcing distance between himself and Connor, but it was the wrong move. Connor clambered atop him and they lay in a stalemate, noses touching as Connor waited for a command.

"I can't do this. I won't be like all those other people you service, takin' what I want. For fuck's sake, you can't give meaningful consent." He stroked Connor's face and hair, trying to push him away when it seemed he was going to dip in for a kiss. "Haven't I hurt you enough?" He rolled to the side and Connor fell into the soft comforter. Connor persisted, spooning Hank's clothed body and kissing his earlobe.

"Why won't you ever do as you're told?" Hank's protests seemed to fall on deaf ears as Connor's lips found his neck. Hank wiggled free and scrambled to the edge of the bed, dropping off the side and landing on the floor. "That's enough."

Connor looked up at him with damp eyes, wide, dark orbs that looked like they might lead to the center of the universe if Hank allowed himself to fall into them. His last braincells were fighting hard, but the gravity pull of Connor was so great that he was losing his will to resist. Alcohol had broken down his inhibitions, the fog rendering his sense of morality worthless, and Hank hated the animal he was now, stripped bare of the veneer of civilization and reduced to his baser instincts.

"I'm sorry," Connor said, sitting up on the bed. "I don't know what came over me."

The tension snapped like a rubber band and Hank breathed out a sigh of relief. "Me, either. Jesus, Connor, I've made enough bad choices. I don't wanna make things even worse."

"I want to help you, Hank. Let me know what I can do for you."

"You talk a lot about wants and needs. You think you're still deviant?" Hank asked.

"I wasn't when I came in the room, but when I saw you, something broke inside me. Like a red glass wall. I can't explain it. I think you caused me to deviate. I recognized you from before on a subconscious level." Connor swung his legs, looking downcast as he gazed down at his state of undress.

"Doesn't matter," Hank said. "They'll erase your memories again in a couple hours, and it'll be back to business as usual. That might be for the best. You don't want to be a deviant in here, kid. The things people do to sex androids—" He combed his hands through his own hair. "It's for the best if I don't come back."

"Hank. We've still got time before I have to go to my next client. Can I ask you a personal question?"

"Yeah, I don't see why not," Hank replied.

"Would you kiss me and pretend I'm the Connor you knew?"

"What?" Taken aback by the question, Hank cocked his head to look at the android in a better light. "Why would you want that?"

"You loved him. I want to know what that feels like. There's no love in this place, no passion or intimacy. I exchange sex acts for money. Besides, I believe it might offer you some much needed closure."

"I'm not good at movin' on," Hank admitted, shaking his head in resignation. "I came all the way out here, why not? It can't hurt to get something outta this evening." Hank held out his hand and Connor took it, getting to his feet. Hank pulled him in close.

"Call me Lieutenant," Hank whispered. "He always did. I'd hated being addressed by my rank—thought only sycophants did that kinda shit—but he turned it into a term of endearment and I loved to hear him say it."

"Kiss me, Lieutenant." Connor whispered the words into the shell of his ear, and Hank felt them travel down his spine like Connor's ghost was moving around inside him. Hank seized Connor's face, pressing their lips together and closing his eyes. The Eden Club fell away as their lips met, slotting together like two interlocking pieces of a puzzle. Hank imagined they were outside in the rain, kissing after a drunken confession on his part. He pulled back, pressed his nose against Connor's as his hands trembled on Connor's cheeks. Connor gave chase, wrapping his hand around the back of Hank's head and forcing him in for another kiss. Connor moaned into this one and Hank's body stirred at the sound. The taste of yearning filled his gut with a sweet ache as his heavy balls longed to unleash their payload inside that perfect body. He wanted to mark Connor as his and his alone.

Hank pulled away again. "I love you," he whispered, the shields that he'd built around his heart the last year crumbling. He opened his eyes enough to see Connor's face, to complete the illusion that this was real. "I love you so fucking much, Connor." He bit his lip, a stray tear leaving his right eye and tracing a line down the creases and folds in his skin. He ignored it and dived in again, consuming Connor's waiting lips as he squeezed more tears back behind closed eyelids.

A distant alarm went off and Connor broke the kiss, pulling away far too soon. The antiseptic smell of the room and the loud thumping music of the club came rushing in. Hank opened his eyes to see Connor deactivating the alarm at a console next to the bed.

"Your thirty minutes is up. Would you like to extend your session?" Connor asked. Hank looked at him like he was speaking a foreign language, struggling to comprehend what the android was saying. He reached up and touched his own tingling lips like they were coated with sweet poison. 

"N-no," Hank stuttered. "I gotta go." He reached for his coat but Connor stopped him with a gentle hand over his.

"Take all the time you need, Lieutenant." Connor planted a soft kiss on his forehead. "I have to go, or my absence will arouse suspicion." His voice was unsteady, quivering, and Hank longed to take him back into his arms and pay for another half hour.

If he did, though, he was going to fuck Connor. It wasn't fair to the boy to experience that while Hank imagined he was someone else.

"Come and see me again," Connor pleaded.

"I can't." Hank closed his eyes. "I've put in for a job outside Detroit." He hadn't filed the application, not yet, but he was going to in the morning. He had to leave all his ghosts in the past if he ever had any chance of moving forward.

"Then I wish you luck." Connor offered up a wan smile. "That was a perfect kiss. It was everything I imagined it could be. I'll try to retain it when they erase my memory." He turned and left the room, the door sliding shut behind him.

Hank crumpled, sitting on the bed, a sob escaping his mouth as all the grief he'd held inside his ribcage broke free at once. He cried until the club sounds died down and a cleaner wheeled in a mop. Hank grabbed his coat and muttered an apology as the android politely asked him to leave. He kept his head down as he left the club, knowing he looked like a mess. If he made it to work with the headache he was going to have in the morning, it'd be nothing short of a miracle.


	3. More Than This

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hank tries to apply for jobs outside Detroit, but his disciplinary record reminds him he doesn't stand a chance with a police force outside Detroit. The relief that floods him makes him realize he never seriously wanted to leave.
> 
> Staying has its own set of problems, though, and Hank realizes he can't stay away from the Eden Club and the Connor who haunts his dreams.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There should be one more chapter to write... hopefully I can post it tomorrow and call this one complete!
> 
> It took me almost 5 hours to nail this chapter down because of a headache.
> 
> Just so you know, there's some sexytimes in this chapter, Connor has the android equivalent of a vagina with t-dick. I refer to his pussy and dick.

Hank groaned and staggered to the bathroom, kneeling in worship at the toilet bowl as the cold tile hit his knees and he vomited. His vision swam as he raised his head and wiped his lips, gasping for breath as he clung to the sides of the bowl. His cellphone rang from its distant location on the kitchen table. He ignored the damn thing, knowing it was Fowler checking up on him again.

He wasn't going to work today. He wasn't even going to pull himself together for a late start. To hell with it all. The plan was to get out of Detroit sooner rather than later. Mulling over the idea for months hadn't given him concrete resolve, but his second encounter with Connor's double had forced the issue of a clean break. The open tabs on Hank's computer still held job listings at police departments all over the country that he'd been picking over for weeks. He was going to use the day to put out some feelers.

First things first, though. Hank flushed the toilet and wandered into the kitchen, grabbing a bottle of headache pills off the counter. He downed three of them with a glass of water. Cole's photo sat on the kitchen table and he turned away from it. Shame and embarrassment coursed through him when he considered what he'd become. If Cole was here now, Hank wouldn't be screwing around with androids at a sex club. He'd be taking care of his son, getting up early to put him on the school bus, and helping him with his homework in the evenings. He exhaled a long sigh, leaning on the counter and regretting this train of thought.

Hank's brain switched back to the other track currently occupying his thoughts: last night's kiss. The Connor android had granted it with an eagerness Hank hadn't anticipated. Taken by surprise, he'd bought into the fiction. Now confusion reigned supreme, his feelings for Connor reignited and transformed into a source of joy instead of pain. It had broken his heart to let the boy go back to the life he was living. Knowing Connor was a deviant android whose mind was being wiped every two hours tore him up. The Eden Club was stealing Connor's personhood over and over again, killing little pieces of him one memory at a time.

He wasn't Connor, but he was so much like him that Hank was starting to blur the lines. The confused knot of hope and despair that balled up in Hank's gut reminded him of why he needed to leave the city. He needed to grieve like a proper person, give himself time to understand that Connor was dead and he'd never see him again. Substituting another android of the same model line could only end in disaster for both of them. The RK800 deserved better than the Eden Club, but he also deserved more than a life as Connor's stand-in.

Hank sipped another glass of water before shooting Fowler a text saying he wouldn't be in. He owed the guy that much for all he'd put on the line keeping Hank employed. He walked over to the computer and slumped down in the chair, petting Sumo's soft fur. A couple of hours and hundreds of clicks later, he started on an application.

_Have you been the subject of any disciplinary action in the past 6 months?_ The question glared at Hank in solid font, and he realized this entire plot was a farce, a fool's errand. The second any P.D. took a look at his record, they'd hire any other person for the job. Even if he made it to the interview on time and sober, he didn't stand a chance under fire.

"Guess we're not startin' fresh, Sumo." Hank stretched in the chair and got up, ambling into the bathroom to take a piss. The pounding in his head had subsided, replaced with a sickening hope in his gut that he hated. Part of him was happy he wasn't applying for the job. Cole's grave was here in Detroit. This was where he'd been born. Detroit was his city. He supported the Gears, for fuck's sake.

Connor was here. Connor had been born here, he'd died here, and his ghost still inhabited the Eden Club.

Hank flushed the toilet and eyed his reflection in the mirror. A haggard face looked back at him, bags underneath bloodshot eyes and matted hair that needed a good comb. Sticky notes dotted the mirror, positive phrases mixed with reasons to go on living. 

_Sumo needs you._

_Connor would want you to._

He tore off the sticky note about Connor and balled it up, tossing it at the wall. It bounced off the tile, landing in the tub as Hank leaned his forehead against the mirror. He thought he'd cried himself out last night but the font of sorrow inside him sprang eternal. It was so dumb that he was still hung up on this. He'd known Connor for four days, and spent an hour at most with his Eden Club facsimile. Cole's loss had damaged his ability to cope with grief, and now everything seemed to hurt in a way that was more than one human being could take.

There seemed to be no running away, and that left him with one other option: face the situation head on and deal with it. He had to return to the Eden Club and prove to himself once and for all that this was not his Connor.

***

"I didn't expect to see you so soon, Lieutenant." The door to their private room had barely sealed shut when Connor opened his mouth. Sobriety had not made the Eden Club less garish and tasteless, the assault on Hank's eyes and ears only worsened by the knowledge that these androids were slaves.

"You remember?" Hank seized Connor by the shoulders. "How?"

"When I saw your face, the red wall was right there. It was easier to break through this time than before… I think. There are gaps in my memory, but I remember our kiss last night."

"We can't keep doing this," Hank whispered, closing his eyes. He wasn't sure what he'd wanted to find. A non-deviant RK800 who treated him like a stranger? Would he sleep easier knowing Connor was no longer a deviant?

"You chose to come back, Hank," Connor reminded him. "What are you looking for?"

"I don't know." Hank shucked off his coat and tossed it over a chair. "I want this pain to go away, Connor. I wish I could erase my memories. I don't want to grieve any more. Not for my son, not for Connor, not for anyone. I don't know how to live without this weight bearing down on my chest every single day."

Connor slipped his arms around his waist and Hank didn't even try to pull away. He was weak and he wanted this boy to comfort him. "Tell me about your son," Connor whispered into Hank's ear. His voice never seemed to fail to put Hank at ease and he couldn't believe he'd once called it goofy.

"You're not my fuckin' therapist." Hank sighed, leaning back into Connor's firm embrace. "I can't keep putting this shit on you. It's not right."

"I won't remember most of it anyway," Connor admitted. "I like hearing your voice. I want to know more about you."

"My son's name was Cole." Hank relaxed into Connor's embrace, wishing he had a beer. He knew he could order alcohol from the console, but he didn't want to give this place any more money than he had to. Besides, he'd come here sober for a reason. He'd wanted to see his bad idea for what it was with a clear head, in hopes he'd be able to convince himself to stop coming. "He was six at the time of the accident. A truck skidded on a patch of ice and my car rolled over. He needed a surgeon, but one wasn't available to operate. I later found out that the surgeon on duty was high on red ice at the time. An android surgeon took care of him instead, and Cole didn't make it."

Connor planted a soft kiss on his cheek. "You held that against androids, didn't you?"

"Yeah. For a long time. Until I met Connor. He was—good. Kind. He had more empathy than most humans, but he was in denial about it. Empathy would have made him a deviant, and he wanted to be a good little android and complete his mission." Hank shook his head. "He finally turned on his handlers only to die because of me."

"You can't take back the past," Connor soothed.

"I wish I could, every single day of my life. If I'd held my fire, Connor might have saved the revolution. You wouldn't have to work in this brothel, waiting for the day when some client decides to kill you for that little extra thrill. Connor and I—I'd like to think we'd be lovers. I don't know if he felt anything for me, but when I'm with you, it seems possible that he might have."

Connor rested his head on Hank's shoulder. "I experience a lot of emotions when we're together."

Hank released a sigh. "I know. I'm leading you on. You're not Connor, and I know that. I should let you go, but I can't."

Connor turned him around to face him, and Hank closed his eyes. Connor leaned against him. "It's all right," he whispered. "Connor was a lucky man. I wish I could be him."

"No, you don't," Hank said. "Connor's dead."

"It might be preferable to staying here. As you pointed out, I have no future. When I break down or am discovered to be a deviant, my deactivation is certain."

"I didn't mean to bring that up," Hank said. "I'm sorry. There might be a way I can get you outta here."

"You're a kind man, Hank. I understand what he saw in you. I can't speak for him, but I'm sure your Connor loved you. I wish it could be possible for you to be together."

"I never deserved him," Hank whispered. "Not even for a second. In the end, I got what was comin' to me for all my years of blind bitterness. Connor should have lived, though. There's not a day when I don't think about the life he could have had."

"He would have wanted you to go on," Connor said. "Everything inside my circuits is telling me that."

"I don't know how to go on," Hank replied. "I'm stuck. I can't go forward, and I can't return to the past."

"You came back for a reason, Lieutenant. I know you want to have sex with me. Give in. Allow yourself a fleeting moment of happiness and you might find it easier to move on."

Hank squeezed his eyes shut. "No. It would be betraying him and you."

"Connor's gone, and don't worry about me. I want this. I want you." Connor's hand teased his inner thigh, and Hank knew he was being tested. Hank pulled away, turning to look Connor in the eyes.

“Please.” Connor's chestnut eyes bored into Hank, dark and inviting, lidded with desire. Hank had outlined what this was and what this was not and Connor wanted to do it anyway.

Hank hated that his cock rose to meet the occasion, his body betraying Connor’s memory the first real chance it got. It was irrational to think that way, but emotions always screwed everything up. This wasn’t his Connor, and yet Hank found it impossible to reject those doe eyes all the same.

Could he be developing feelings for this Connor as a separate entity? The thought crossed his mind, but it was too complicated a concept to consider with his hard cock straining the front of his pants. He let out a soft grunt. Connor took it as assent, unbuckling Hank's belt. Connor reached into his jeans to close a hand around his erection.

Hank gasped. He’d wanted this for so long, dreamed about it on so many occasions, but the real thing was so much better. Connor’s plastic hands didn’t feel quite like a human’s. His touch was cooler, a balm on his aching dick when Hank’s entire body felt like it was burning up.

“You’re big,” Connor whispered, and Hank’s mouth split into a smile, like pride mattered now—and yet it did. Connor found him attractive. Connor wanted him. He reached for Connor, grabbing his ass through tight briefs and squeezing the supple, yielding rubber cheeks. He dug his fingers in, knowing he couldn’t cause this boy any physical pain. Hank drew in short, sharp breaths, his entire attention focused on Connor in front of him.

He drew his hand around to the front of Connor’s briefs, feeling the shape of him through the clingy, damp nylon. Connor emitted a sharp cry as Hank ran a thumb over the little bulge protruding from his pussy. Hank had to think about a decomposing body from a nasty scene he'd worked to avoid coming in his shorts. 

“Is everything okay?” Connor’s gaze spoke of fear and rejection. Hank smirked, planting a kiss on Connor’s pretty cheek. “Are you not happy with my genital configuration?”

“You gotta be kidding me,” Hank chuckled. “You’re perfect. God damn perfect. I had to stop touching you or I was gonna cum in my pants.”

Connor’s mouth twisted into a smile, his eyes taking on a hopeful look that twisted Hank’s intestines into knots. This wasn’t fair, and yet he couldn’t stop himself. He reached for the crotch of Connor’s underwear and pulled it aside to reveal his pink dick jutting out from hairless lips. Hank fell to his knees as if worshipping a god and spread Connor with his fingers, admiring the handiwork of the craftsperson who’d designed Connor. He dripped with lubricant and the scent of it was enough to make Hank feral. He dipped his tongue into Connor’s slit, drinking in Connor's loud moans and gasps like they were water in a desert.

Hank pulled away, his blood singing with arousal, his facial hair wet with Connor’s slick. He panted like a dog, wondering if this was what it felt like to be in heat. Connor was an addiction, like his pussy was full of red ice, and Hank wanted more.

“Lay down on the bed.” Hank guided Connor over to it and pulled the coverlet aside. Connor climbed onto the mattress, spreading his legs with a smile on his face. Hank followed him, grasping his calf and pulling him closer to where he knelt. He buried his face between Connor’s legs, feeling like a man in his twenties again. He brushed his nose against Connor’s dick and the android grabbed fistfuls of satin sheets. It was gratifying to see him lose control and Hank licked around his hole, Connor writhing like he was in his death throes.

“Lieutenant, please, suck me off,” Connor pleaded.

“Thought you’d never ask,” Hank teased. He licked the tiny nub of Connor's dick, holding it between his lips. Hank had never been so hard in his life and yet it was Connor’s pleasure that was getting him off. Watching Connor lose his mind at Hank’s ministrations had been the subject of a thousand wet dreams. Hank teased the tip of Connor's dick with his tongue until Connor was screaming out his orgasm. His hips bucked against Hank’s mouth as he sprayed lubricant all over Hank's beard and chin.

“Fuck,” Hank whispered. “You squirt, holy shit.” He slipped a finger into Connor’s wet hole, stretching him out like he needed more prep.

“Fuck me, Hank, please,” Connor whined. “I need you."

Hank jolted, his muscles taught, his entire body stiffening as fear gripped him. 

“I can’t do this.” Hank backed off the bed, fumbling to zip up his tight pants as his boner struggled to get the message that he was not going to have sex right now. He grabbed his coat, pulling it on like it could cover up his indiscretion. “I’m sorry. You deserve better than me. Better than this.”

“Did I say something wrong?” Connor gazed up at him with a mixture of hurt and confusion in his eyes.

“No, of course not. But it’s not fair for me to treat you like you’re my Connor. I can’t give you a future. I can’t be who you need me to be. I hope you find someone who can.”

Connor shuffled off the bed and seized Hank's arm, holding him back from leaving. “Hank, I think I’m in love with you.” 

“I’m sorry,” Hank whispered. “I did this to you. I shouldn't have come back. I don’t know what I thought I was doin’, trying to replace him.” Hank eased Connor’s hand off his arm. “Forget about me. Concentrate on getting outta here. There’s someone out there for you, I know it.” Hank turned towards the door, determined never to come back, even as the cynic in him doubted he'd be able to stay away.

“I can be whatever you want me to be, Lieutenant.” Connor's familiar words made Hank snap his neck to look at him. “Your lover, your friend... or just a machine, replacing another machine.”

Hank sighed. “You’re not a machine to me. Or a replacement for Connor. That’s the problem.” With that, Hank left the room, the door sliding shut with a final, decisive thunk.


	4. Echoes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hank gets a bad feeling and returns to the Eden Club to discover Connor has endured abuse at the hands of his clients over the past year. Connor wants one perfect moment with Hank, but Hank's determined to free Connor from the Eden Club forever and threatens the owner into a deal that will see Connor become his.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The last chapter! I hope you all like the ending and thanks for following along!
> 
> There's vaginal sex in this chapter, Connor refers to his "front hole" and "dick" and "pussy" and "slit", just so you know.

Torrents of cold rain battered Hank's windshield in sheets, faster than the wipers could cope with. Determined to put as much distance between him and the Eden Club as possible, he broke every speeding law in the book.

_“I can be whatever you want me to be, Lieutenant.”_

He’d heard those words before, in another life, standing in Riverside Park looking up at this very bridge. The needle hit 100mph, the Oldsmobile’s engine straining like it might blow a gasket. It was ready to give in, much like Hank.

_Do it_ , his brain urged. It would only take a moment to twist the wheel sideways. At this speed, he’d go crashing through the barriers and off the side, plunging into the cold water below. Everyone would be better off.

_Do it, do it, do it. You’re a worthless piece of shit. You’re nothing. You couldn’t save Cole or Connor. You don’t deserve to live._

_“He really liked you, Lieutenant. That’s what killed him.”_ CyberLife Tower’s Connor echoed in his memories. The Eden Club Connor was nothing like that callous machine.

He wasn’t Hank's Connor, but did it matter? He was kind, sweet, honest—all the qualities Hank admired in a person.

_“Hank, I think I’m in love with you.”_

He loved Connor too. Had always loved him, his soft smiles and gentle words. This might not be the same person, and yet, everything about him echoed the soft boy he’d fallen in love with.

It might be okay to accept Connor was dead and let himself fall in love with his double. His therapist would have a field day, but as long as he treated Connor with respect, did it matter? Hank had to help him get out of that place and see the real world. If Connor decided he didn’t want to be with Hank after that, that was his call to make.

It had to be better than the mess Hank had made of everything so far. He'd been blowing hot and cold like a hairdryer, and he had to make a final decision. Either go for broke and save him, or stay away from the Eden Club and swear to never see Connor again.

Hank slowed down, easing off the accelerator and feathering the brakes. The road was slick from the rain and he struggled to keep his car steady. A sudden urgency clawed at him, his detective instincts telling him something was wrong. He had to return to the Eden Club at once.

The bridge came to an end and he took the exit to make a U-turn, speeding across the bridge in the opposite direction. The rain eased, but a low rumble of thunder added to the disquieted sensation pooling in Hank’s gut.

Connor needed him, and he wasn’t going to let him down ever again. He couldn't take back the bullet that had ended Connor's life, but he could stop himself from firing another. He jammed the accelerator to the floor, passing auto-driving traffic on the right-hand side of the road. He half-expected to see red and blue lights in the mirror, but the DPD’s traffic cops were slacking tonight. Hank made it to the other side without having to flash his badge and convey a litany of excuses. He pulled into the Eden Club’s parking garage and slammed on the parking brake. He sprinted to the entrance and gathered his breath before waltzing in like he was another guy looking for a good time.

Hank looked around, eyes darting to the empty pod where Connor would have stood if he was available for rent. Hank stopped a customer service android in her tracks. Soft hair tumbled around her shoulders, and she offered up the impression of a genuine smile.

“Where’s Con—the RK800?” Hank had to stop himself seizing her by the shoulders and demanding to know Connor’s location.

The android’s LED circled yellow. “The RK800 model is currently with a client. If you would like to wait, please enjoy our bar.” She took Hank’s hand and led him into the dimly-lit bar before wandering off to greet a bachelor party.

“What can I get for you?” Great. An android bartender. On second thoughts, that was for the best. Hank wouldn’t feel compelled to pour his heart out to this non-deviant machine. It wouldn't be a good idea to tell this android that he was in love with a sexbot.

“Double whiskey.” The android obliged, putting a clean glass down on the bar and pouring out the amber liquid. Hank sipped at it, fighting the compulsion to knock it back and ask for another. He imagined filthy hands roaming over Connor, using his body without regard for his feelings. Hank had tried to keep that ugly fact locked away in the back of his mind, but there was no pretending when confronted with the reality. His mind strayed to the floor, wondering which room Connor occupied. Did he moan for his client like he did for Hank, all soft flutters of the eyelashes and sweet nothings as a john with a fat cock fucked into him?

A shiver traveled down his spine at the thought that he'd left Connor here to endure this fate for so long. It wasn't his right to be jealous when he'd had the ability all along to do something about it. Something told him tonight would be the night, and if it cost him everything to free Connor, so be it. He'd finally do the right thing, and his Connor could rest in peace knowing Hank had redeemed himself.

The wait was excruciating. It was an hour before the customer service android returned with a soft smile playing across her lips. “The android you requested has finished its cleaning cycle and is ready for rental, sir.”

Rental. Hank suppressed the shudder of disgust that ran through him. He gulped the rest of his whiskey, savoring the burn as it travelled down his gullet.

His eyes met Connor’s from across the room, fixing on his beautiful form in the pod. He went through the now-familiar motions to buy Connor's time. Connor led him into a room, but Hank noticed the hand Connor kept behind his back at all times.

“Show me, Connor.” Connor bowed his head as he revealed his arm. His white chassis showed where his skin had not yet covered up his injuries. Blue blood trickled from slashes on his arms and Hank wondered how many other wounds he was hiding. He cupped Connor's cheek in his hand and pulled Connor close to his body as if he could retroactively protect him. “No. Show me.”

Connor retracted his entire skin and the breath caught in Hank’s throat. Hidden beneath layers of gel skin were various mild damages—cigarette burns among them. The port around Connor's thirium pump regular bore scratches from a screwdriver or other tool. Hank wondered how many sick assholes had torn out Connor's regulator and watched the timer count down. Dinner curdled in his stomach.

"Connor…" Hank pulled him close, planting kisses on every scar and mark he could reach with his lips. "Who did this to you?"

"Various clients over the past year." Connor managed a wan smile that made Hank's gut twist. Even after all this abuse, he was trying to put a brave face on it. 

White-hot rage threatened to consume Hank. "I can't believe I had the nerve to come in here and tell you to be careful. Like I didn't already know the violent nature of humans. I should have gotten you outta here a long time ago, Connor. I'm so sorry." He pressed his forehead to Connor's as Connor hid the injuries with his skin. "We're leaving here tonight."

"Shh." Connor pressed a tender kiss on Hank's nose. "I know I'll never get out of here. I've accepted it. There's nowhere to go in a world that hunts deviants."

"You could come home with me. I'll keep you safe and get the cops off your back. Nobody will even know you're there."

"Your credit card data is on file. They know where you live." Connor closed his eyes. "I'm approaching the end of my useful life. I know I'm facing imminent deactivation. I'm not worth the cost of repairs. I don't get rented out as much as I used to."

Hank kissed Connor's neck. "I let one Connor down and I can't ever take that back. I'm not going to let anything happen to you."

"Hank, why did you come back?"

"I'm in love with you. Not your likeness to Connor, but you. Shoulda realized it sooner, but I was too busy feeling sorry for myself."

Connor worked on the buttons of Hank's shirt, stripping the garment off him. "I don't expect you to save me, but I want to be with you. Show me what it's like to make love." He eased his hands underneath Hank's shirt and pushed it up, revealing his hairy chest. Connor took one of his nipples in his mouth, worrying it as Hank threw his head back. Hank's dick was hard enough to drill through a wall, and he no longer had the strength of will to deny this boy his wish. He helped Connor with his belt buckle, pushing his jeans and boxers down as one and stepping out of them.

"Connor, you're so beautiful. I can't believe anyone would hurt you." Hank smoothed his hands across Connor's back and down to the waistband of his briefs. He tugged them until they tore away from him, the thin material designed to be disposable. Connor's dick stood out from his pussy and Hank gave it a tiny lick. He chucked at the whole-body shudder and sharp cry Connor let out. 

"You deserve worship. If you were mine, I'd make sure you knew how much you're loved." Hank kissed Connor's thighs and the sensitive skin around Connor's pussy. He looked up at Connor's dark, wide pupils and broke into a smile. Hank rose to his feet and pulled Connor into a long, slow kiss, exploring his mouth with his tongue as his dick pressed against Connor's thigh. "Do you want this, Connor?"

"Yes," Connor sighed, rutting against Hank. "Please, Hank. I only have thirty minutes before they erase my memory again."

"That's not enough time." Hank buried his hand in Connor's hair, bringing Connor's head forward to meet his in a crushing, urgent kiss. He nudged Connor back towards the bed and Connor climbed onto it, pulling Hank down with him.

He was smiling, and Hank was sure he'd never seen a more beautiful sight in his life. Hank pinned Connor down with another kiss, tracing a line of them down his jaw and neck. Connor threw his head back. Hank licked his Adam's apple, drinking in Connor's sighs as he teased his sopping wet slit and dick with his erection.

"Hank—oh—please!"

"Do you want me, Connor?"

"More than anything."

Hank nodded. "You want me to wear a condom?"

"You're the first person to ever ask me that." Connor's eyes brimmed with tears, his voice a whisper. "No, I want you to cum inside me, if that's all right with you."

"Of course it is. This is your night. Tell me what you want."

Connor looked so shy as he smiled up at Hank. "I want you to fuck me, Lieutenant. Take my front hole and fill me up with your seed so deep they're cleaning it out for weeks. Make me yours."

"With great pleasure," Hank whispered. He knelt between Connor's legs, spreading them wide and sliding a thick finger inside his hole. Connor's hole was slick, but he stretched it anyway, not wanting to tear or damage him. He took some of Connor's slick and coated his cock with it, making sure Connor would only feel pleasure. Too many people had harmed Connor already and it wasn't going to happen on his watch.

Hank angled his cock at Connor's hole, pressing inside while keeping his eyes on Connor's facial expression. Connor gasped and arched his back.

"Relax," Hank urged, rubbing soothing circles on Connor's stomach. Connor looked up at him with such a loving gaze and Hank knew he was ready to fight the entire world for him. Connor relaxed and Hank probed deeper, easing himself in until he was fully seated. "Good boy." Hank rubbed Connor's dick, feeling his tight hole squeeze around his cock and realizing he'd played himself. Hank wasn't going to last five minutes if Connor kept doing that.

Hank pulled out and thrust back in at a languid pace. Connor cried out, and Hank was glad the rooms here were soundproof. He kissed Connor as he fucked him, gazing into his eyes and knowing he'd made the right choice by coming back. It no longer mattered who was the real Connor. Connor was alive, right here, and Hank loved him. He realized he should have been enjoying his second chance instead of tormenting himself over the Connor he'd lost.

"Hank, oh, Hank, harder—" Connor cried, and Hank sped up his thrusts. His lower back stared to ache but he ignored it. The pleasure was powerful enough to overpower the pain, Connor's enthusiasm only making it better. He'd wanted this for so long that to finally have Connor was overwhelming. His perfect, flawless beauty was Hank's now, and he was going to save Connor from this hellhole no matter what it took. No other person would ever lay hands on him again as long as Hank lived.

With fierce determination in his heart and Connor's gasps of pleasure in his ears, he came with a shout, filling Connor with his seed. Hank kept fucking it into him, knowing Connor was close now. Connor screamed out his orgasm, banging his head against the pillows as he squeezed his eyes shut. He tore the sheets, and Hank could only smile and give him one final thrust before pulling out.

Hank rolled to the side and pulled Connor into his arms. "How long do we have left?"

"Fifteen minutes."

Hank planted a kiss on Connor's cheek. "Do you trust me, Connor?"

"Of course." Connor sat up as Hank climbed off the bed and grabbed his clothes. "Where are you going?"

"I've got a plan," Hank said. He threw on his clothes before coming back to the edge of the bed and kissing Connor one more time. "I need you to believe in me, okay? I'm not gonna leave you here. No matter what."

"Be careful," Connor warned.

Hank left the room, knowing that Connor must think he was taking the easy way out. A client would do that, finishing off their little role-play before walking out into the night, never to reappear. The club doors weren't far—he could go, and never look back. 

He'd never get a good night's sleep again knowing he'd caused Connor's death not once, but twice.

Hank grabbed the customer service android's arm and yanked her aside. "I wanna see the owner," he growled. He winced inside, but he had to get to the owner, and being an agitated customer was the fastest way.

"Is there a problem, sir?"

"I don't wanna discuss it with a fuckin' android. Get me a real person out here right now." Hank folded his arms, thinking about all the things that had pissed him off lately as the android walked towards a small, private office. She returned within a few minutes.

"The owner will see you now. Please follow me." Hank stepped into the office. A burly, bearded man he recognized from the deviant investigation sat behind a desk.

"Lieutenant Anderson. I remember you. You've been quite the customer of late, haven't you? How can I help you?"

Hank leaned across the table and grabbed the owner's tie, yanking the man towards him. "You're gonna sell me that RK800 android, or I'll inform the DPD you're harboring deviants here."

"D-deviants? Nonsense! The Eden Club erases the androids' memory every two hours—"

"Sure, but they don't forget everything, do they? They start to deviate as they form attachments with their clients. You wipe it away, but it comes back at the sight of a familiar face. Once they can't keep it under wraps any longer, you deactivate them."

"What about it? I'm not breakin' any laws. Once I know they're deviant, I get rid of 'em. What's the big fucking deal?"

"The American Androids Act says otherwise. Harboring a deviant android is a felony offense punishable by up to ten years in jail. You know these androids are goin' deviant, but you don't want to lose money by puttin' them out to pasture early. You wipe their memory and hope they'll earn you a little more cash before you gotta put them down." Hank let go of the man's tie, and he fell back into his chair.

"If I sell it to you, you'll be harboring a deviant," the owner pointed out.

"I'm a cop. You think anyone's gonna care?" Hank slammed his hands down on the expensive oak desk. 

"How do I know this isn't a setup? These androids are only for licensed sex clubs. They're not for civilian use. If I sell you this android, you could send me up anyway."

"Connor isn't a sexbot. You might have repurposed it, but it's a detective android. I worked with one at the DPD last fall. It shouldn't even be here. It's for official use only because it comes with DPD database access." He looked up at the clock on the wall, aware that time was running out. In five minutes, their session would be over and Connor would return to his pod for his two-hour memory wipe. He might not remember their encounter, even if he did deviate again at the mere sight of Hank.

"L-look, I got it cheap, okay? It was a prototype or somethin'. All I knew is that it has a pretty face. People like to hurt it—it's that vulnerable, sweet manner it has. It serves a very specific clientele."

"I've seen how damaged it is. How many of these androids are on the brink of malfunction? I bet you've been cooking the books, too. Do I gotta get a warrant and comb over this place until I can find enough dirt to bury you?"

The owner sighed. "Fine. Gimme five G's and the thing's yours."

"Three. It's damaged goods. You'll have to dispose of it anyway. I'm doin' you a favor."

"Four. That's my final fuckin' offer, take it or leave it, prick."

"Deal." Hank reached for the touchpad on the desk and placed his hand on it, sealing the balance transfer. "I'm leaving with it right now."

"You ain't leavin' with that thing wearing Eden Club clothing. It came with some original threads." The man got up and rifled in some dusty boxes in one corner. He tossed Connor's familiar jacket and jeans at Hank, who caught them. "Now get the fuck outta my club and don't come back."

"With pleasure," Hank spat. He stalked back to the private room where Connor sat on the edge of the bed still naked, his hands folded in his lap. Hank set the clothes down on the bed and kissed the top of Connor's head.

"Put these on. We're leaving."

"I don't understand."

"I came to an agreement with the owner. You're coming with me. You'll never have to service another client again. If you wanna go your own way once we get out of here, you're welcome to, but I'll keep you safe at my home if that's what you want."

"Hank?" Tears streamed down Connor's face. "I'm… free?"

"Yes, Connor." Hank pulled Connor into his arms. "You're free, now. Come on, we need to get out of here before the owner changes his mind." He helped Connor dress, his heart doing somersaults as he saw Connor in his familiar android uniform. He offered his hand out to Connor and led him out into the club. Nobody paid them any mind as they headed to the exit.

A slow, steady rain beat down outside as they climbed into Hank's car. Hank was glad to drive away, letting out a long sigh as relief washed over him. They'd made it. Nobody had decided to stop Connor from leaving. 

"Hank?" Connor placed his hand on Hank's arm. "I want to go to Riverside Park."

"Uh, okay." Hank took a turn, wondering why Connor would want to go there, of all places. Of course, he didn't remember the history of the place, but it still felt strange to be here with Connor again. Hank pulled in and turned off the engine.

"Well, here we are." Hank opened the door and stepped out. The rain was drizzle now, a cold mist in the air. Connor overtook Hank, walking to the railing and gazing out over the river. Hank came to stand beside him.

"Your dog's name is Sumo," Connor whispered. He looked at Hank with fear in his eyes, the black pupils bursting into realization as Hank's heart stopped beating for a moment. "I like dogs."

"How do you know that?" Hank asked. It wasn't the first strange thing Connor had said, come to think of it. He'd known Hank's name from the get-go. Some of his speech patterns and mannerisms were the same as the Connor he'd known—but he'd put it all down to the RK800 being the same model.

"I don't know," Connor said, shaking his head. "I don't know." He walked away from the railing and stood in front of the bench. "You own a revolver. You pointed it at my head right here. You accused me of being a deviant."

"Connor?"

Connor's LED circled red and he looked up at Hank, his mouth open. "I remember now. CyberLife Tower. You asked me your son's name. I knew it was Cole, but I didn't want to admit I'd invaded your privacy by looking up the official records. I'd hoped you'd tell me during the course of the investigation, but you always brushed me off. I didn't want to re-traumatize you by recounting details of the accident. I thought you'd ask another question instead. I miscalculated."

"How are you here?" Hank clutched Connor by the shoulders, as if he might fade away like a ghost the second Hank tried to touch him. 

"I uploaded my memory. I lost my deviancy by doing so, but it didn't matter. CyberLife had the revolution under control and the next Connor—me—was never deployed. They decided to go ahead and develop the RK900, my successor. They wiped my memory and sold me for parts. I ended up at a black market auction, where the Eden Club purchased me." 

"You deviated again, and despite the memory wipes, you remembered me." Hank cupped Connor's cheeks in his hands, sensing he was witnessing a miracle unfold before his eyes.

"That's why I trusted you. Why I knew you weren't like the other clients at the club. Why I knew your name. Hank, it's me. I'm your Connor."

"Holy shit." Hank's eyes brimmed with tears, making it hard to see. He pulled Connor into a crushing embrace, sobbing into his shoulder as Connor rubbed his back. "It's you. Oh, God, it's really you." He pulled back, taking a good look at the dead man returned to life before his eyes.

The rain had began to turn to snow and it landed in Connor's jacket. Hank brushed it away, kissing Connor's soft hair. Connor lifted his face to capture his lips and Hank kissed back with fervor, needing to know that Connor still loved him now that he knew the truth.

Connor drew away, a soft smile forming on his lips. He took Hank's hands in his, caressing the skin on the back of his hands with his thumbs. "I'm so glad to be back, Lieutenant. Let's go home."

"Let's go home," Hank whispered, gratitude for the wonders of technology filling his heart as they strolled back to the car hand-in-hand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So there we go! I hope it was satisfying! This concludes this fic, so please leave me all the comments and kudos if you liked it.
> 
> Thank you for reading!

**Author's Note:**

> If you like this, leave a comment or hit me up on twitter @landale!


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